


A Marriage of Convenience

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU- Game of Thrones, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Adam, Bottom Castiel, Feminization, Historical Fantasy, Implied Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mpreg, Objectification, Past Character Death, Pregnant Adam, Pregnant Castiel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his father, Dean Winchester's life is thrown into turmoil. He is an outcast and his brother, Sam, is captured and held prisoner. Dean knows his only chance of saving his brother lies in raising an army. To do that, he must make a deal with the Angels, a once-noble family who have been consigned to the wilderness ever since they were disposed. </p><p>To gain the Angels' army of mercenaries and followers, Dean must marry one of their own. His intended is Castiel, the youngest of the family. </p><p>Their marriage is an arranged one, but Dean soon finds himself falling for his unexpected husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Game of Thrones inspired Dean/Castiel AU. I do not watch GoT so it is only very vaguely inspired with much of the blood and power struggles stripped away. (sorry!)
> 
> This was written for tumblr. Mostly it will be changing POVs between Dean and Castiel, but I may also include other characters. I may not be able to update often. 
> 
> It's not been beta-read. I will add warnings as they become applicable. The rating may go up.

Dean didn't know if this was a good idea. If he had other choices, other families to make alliances with, then he might have gone to them first, but the other families had closed ranks against the Winchesters after his father’s death, effectively leaving Dean an outcast. That meant the only people he could go to were the Angels.

Their family had been wandering on the edges for some time, since they were deposed. They had followers, but more than that, they had an army amassed from mercenaries and lost souls, those who had flocked to their banner and the promise of change. Dean could offer them legitimacy. The Winchesters were still a noble family. In exchange for their army, he would marry one the Angels and make them his prince-consort when he was crowned.

The Angels would reclaim the throne. One of their grandchildren would rule. Dean was certain that, of all the families, the Angels had been on the outside long enough to realize that it was worth playing the long game. Michael, the oldest, didn't need to be king as long as their family name and their family line was ensured. They could come back to court; reclaim the lands and castles that had been forfeited when they were removed. Dean was offering a chance that had not existed before.

Dean needed them to take it. He needed their army. He needed to move quickly. His brother Sam was a captive. Dean didn't know what was planned for him, but he was sure it was not good. Either Sam would be executed as a traitor or he would be married off, forced to legitimize the power struggle that had erupted after their father’s death. Neither future was one Dean wanted for his brother. He had to move quickly to save Sam and that meant finalizing this deal with the Angels.

He met with Michael to finalize their deal and accept an introduction to his intended. Dean knew Michael had many siblings, more than enough to marry off and eventually cement ties with all the noble families.

They met in a large ornate tent. There were chairs and pillows to sit on, low little tables laid out with food and goblets for wine. Servants carried leaves with which to fan them. It was opulence on a small scale to show the Angels were not completely removed from the society they had once ruled.

Dean sat and looked upon the men that he would soon call family.

Years of wandering had made Michael harsh. There were scars on his body that Dean did not remember. Dean had been a youth when the Angels had been driven into the wilderness but he remembered Michael as serene and scholarly. Now he saw a haggard warrior, a man searching for a chance to reclaim the glory he had lost.

Gabriel was much as Dean remembered him, still dressed in gaudy colors, still a jester. His jokes were barbed, his smiles cruel, but he offered Dean marzipan stuffed dates and explained that his intended would be along in a minute.

Raphael stood silently alongside his brothers, glaring imperiously at Dean. He would not sit or drink with them. Dean wondered if he was even in favor of this agreement or if he would have preferred to refuse Dean’s offer and go on alone.

Dean thought to ask where Lucifer was, but he remembered hearing news that one of their number had died. He bit his lip and drank the rose scented water Gabriel poured.

Finally, the flap of their tent was pushed back and a young man entered. Dean did not immediately recognize him, although he saw that he was beautiful. He was dark haired like Michael, but his eyes were blue. He had been draped in blue silks that clung to him appealingly but offered hardly any coverage, hinting at the tantalizing body hidden beneath them.

Dean rose to his feet quickly, as did Michael and Gabriel, glancing at Michael from the corner of his eye. He was, he realized, being offered the most tempting thing Michael could think of. They were desperate, needing Dean’s help. Suddenly, Dean understood Raphael’s unhappiness. Even with their army, they had not been able to make their move. It was humiliating to a people who were so proud.

“This is Castiel,” Michael said, gesturing to the young man.

Dean nodded. He remembered Castiel vaguely. He had been a child when the family had fled. He was a man now. A beautiful man who made Dean’s heart beat faster. As he watched, Castiel bowed his head submissively, clutching his hands together in front of him.

“You can inspect him if you like,” Michael offered. “He is a virgin but we are confident he can breed.”

Castiel lifted his head just slightly at that, his eyes narrowed and Dean fought back a smile. There was a streak of defiance in the man then? A stubbornness? Dean thought he was all the better for it.

He took a step forward, letting his eyes roam up and down over Castiel’s body. He walked around Castiel, looking at him from different angles and tried not to feel as if he was inspecting a horse he meant to buy. Castiel was stunning. Dean couldn’t help but feel lucky. He had not known what sort of offer he would receive. Castiel was better than he had dared to let himself imagine. He tried not to let his pleasure show on his face. He did not want Michael to know exactly how pleased he was with Castiel.

Dean had always hoped to avoid an arranged marriage. He had hoped that by being a solider he would forge his own path and make a love-match. Politics and life at court had conspired against him and brought Dean to this union, but he thought that maybe, given time, he and Castiel could come to love each other.

Dean felt the first, important spark. He felt lust when he gazed upon the young man. From lust they could build to a deeper understanding and a deeper commitment.

He came to a stop, standing in front of Castiel and he nodded slowly.

“He’s acceptable,” he said. “We’ll marry tomorrow.”

“Good,” Michael said. “I shall inform the men that there is to be a wedding.”

“And a party?” Gabriel asked hopefully.

“No, no time for a party,” Dean said, still staring at Castiel. “We must move as soon as possible.”

“Very well,” Michael said.

Dean let himself smile then. Castiel raised his head and looked back at him, meeting his eye for the first time. His cheeks flushed pleasantly and Dean felt his heart skip a beat.

His wedding could not come soon enough as far as Dean was concerned.


	2. Castiel's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Castiel prepares for his wedding and Gabriel advises him on his marital duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions murder and unhappy marriages. Your normal GoT's type thing.

Castiel stared numbly at his reflection, seeing himself but not believing that the boy he saw in the dressing table mirror was truly himself. He had never had clothes so fine before. He was wrapped up in white silk and the little lace they could afford. Castiel knew Michael must have spent a small fortune on his clothes and that he must have horded these things, waiting for Castiel’s wedding day.

Castiel knew their funds were very low, but still Michael had not spared any expense. It would be the most dishonorable thing for Castiel to marry without the proper ceremony, even if they were going to forgo the wedding feast and celebrations afterwards. 

He had still been prepared as if he was marrying in court, not far away from it. Castiel’s face had been covered in powder, his eyes outlined with kohl, his lips and cheeks painted pink. He looked like a doll. He looked fragile, as if he would break or fall apart when touched. It was strange to look upon a reflection like that, one that did not convey at all how Castiel felt inside. 

Castiel had always known he would marry for duty, not for love. His path had always been clear to him. He was the youngest of the family. He could not find glory in battle. His job was to make the most advantageous match possible and produce the succession. Castiel had only hoped that he would come to know his husband before their marriage. He had hoped they might talk together, form an opinion of each other, but that was not to be. 

Within the space of a day he had been bartered away to Dean Winchester and by the time the sun had set today, he would be married to him. 

They had not even spoken two words to each other and Castiel found it very difficult to have any opinion on his future husband at all. He thought that Dean had a pleasant smile but that was hardly enough to base a union on. Castiel was proud. He wouldn’t fall for a man simply because he looked charming. 

The flap of his tent was pushed back, revealing his older brother Gabriel, dressed in his own finery of bright greens and gold. Raphael and Michael had already visited him, bringing gifts. Castiel had told Michael it was hardly necessary but it seemed some customs still had to be followed, even when they were pushed for time and would be heading for a battle as soon as the vows had been exchanged. 

Michael had brought Castiel a tiger cub as his gift. She was small and round, the least threatening thing Castiel had ever seen. Michael assured him that she would grow and she would grow to protect Castiel and any children he bore. Castiel had nodded and tried his hardest not to feel disgusted at the prospect of being bedded by a man he hardly knew. It was like whoring, only Castiel required a wedding ring and not money before he was taken to bed. 

He had named his tiger cub Anahita and left her playing on his bed, chasing the bright ribbons and bits of lace that had been in the trunk with Castiel’s wedding outfit. 

Next had come Raphael. Castiel knew he was not eager for the wedding to take place and his gifts had been because they were required, not because he had put thought behind them or cared very much what Castiel received. He had given Castiel two books and a bottle of rich, spiced perfume. Castiel had accepted the gifts gracefully and dabbed a little of the perfume on to his neck. In such a way, Raphael would be part of the wedding, even if he did not want to be. 

Now it was Gabriel’s turn and Castiel found himself eager to see what his brother had brought for him. It was not often that Castiel was the center of such attention. 

Gabriel came towards him slowly and stood behind Castiel, gazing over his head at the reflection in the mirror. He reached down to Castiel’s dressing table, picking up Castiel’s comb and began to brush his hair. It was an odd gesture from Gabriel, who usually confined himself to pranks and teasing. It was gentle and Castiel squirmed, not sure what to make of it. 

“I suppose no one has thought to inform you of your duties,” Gabriel said.

Castiel pursed his lips.

“I do know what is expected of me. Dean will bed me and I will carry his child.”

Gabriel laughed, the sound a little hollow.

“You’re an innocent. You have no idea what to expect,” he said harshly. “Do you remember that I was married once, Castiel? I know what men are like. I know what will happen to you.”

Castiel shuddered. He had been but a child when Gabriel was married. He remembered colors and music, a party that went on for days. He remembered also Gabriel crying – a younger, sweeter Gabriel who seemed to age within days and lose so much of his gaiety. 

Castiel remembered how suddenly all the laughter had been stripped from their home. He remembered Michael being grey faced and anxious. He remembered Gabriel returning to them and how it was a great shame on not only them but the family of Gabriel’s husband. 

That union had lasted only six months but they had been the worst six months of Castiel’s young life. Before then everything had seemed happy and afterwards, everything had seemed wrong. Castiel had thought it was a blessing when Gabriel’s husband died a violent, sudden death, but he had been too young to understand that was the start of their undoing.

Michael could not go around murdering the sons and heads of other noble households, no matter how wickedly they treated one of his own. People talked, people brooded. Michael never raised a hand himself, he hired others to do it for him, but the injustice had festered. 

The Angels put family above the feelings of the other houses and eventually, it would return to destroy them. 

Castiel took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“I am sure Lord Winchester is not like that,” he said firmly.

Gabriel sighed. He put the comb down on the dressing table and reached into the folds of his clothes.

“My gifts are going to seem very strange compared to the ones you have already received,” he said, putting them down on the dressing table for Castiel to see. One was a little ampule filled with oil and the other was small, sharp dagger. Castiel looked up at his brother, his face drawn in confusion. 

“The oil is to ease the way,” Gabriel continued. “It will hurt, Castiel. Try to find some time to yourself to prepare for him. Use the oil on your fingers and spread yourself open for him. Try to bend over and brace yourself against something for when he takes you. I found that was the easiest. Don’t dwell on it, think of something else. Hopefully he will not have much stamina and it will be over soon. You will only need to do it until you conceive and then he will no doubt amuse himself with a mistress or with whores.” 

Castiel nodded, the flood of information more than he had expected. He was not completely unworldly. He had seen horses mated and more than once he had come upon lovers in the camp but no one had ever taken him aside and spoken so directly to him on the subject. Castiel felt dread coil in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of his wedding night. He had tried to avoid it, to put it out of his mind, but now he faced it with a cold certainty.

“And the dagger?” he asked.

Gabriel smiled bitterly at him.

“To defend your virtue. I understand that you must eventually become his, but that does not mean you have to do it tonight. This is for protection if your nerve fails you.” 

Castiel picked up the little objects and hid them in the pocket of his wedding gown. He felt sick suddenly. 

“I need some air,” he whispered.

Gabriel nodded in comprehension. 

“Wine would be better,” he said. “You’ll feel it less when the time comes.”

He went to the flap of the tent and called to a servant. In a few minutes, they were brought a goblet of sweet honey wine that Castiel drunk to the dregs. He felt light headed, as if he was about to float away from his body and away from the tent. He would leave everything behind and for a few seconds, Castiel believed that to be the better choice. 

How could he marry Dean Winchester? How could he submit to him and to the base necessities their marriage accorded him? Castiel couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

There was a noise behind him, the sound of footsteps and Castiel turned round to see Michael standing there. He did not remember the last time his brother had looked so handsome. Michael looked like a King, even if his clothes did not fit quite as well as they had done when they were tailored for him.

“It is time,” Michael said. He held out his arm for Castiel to take.

Castiel rose slowly, unsteadily on to his feet and reached out, taking hold of Michael. 

He looked at his brother and remembered the duty he had to him and to their family. On Castiel’s shoulders rested their survival. He could not let his fears ruin their chances now. Castiel breathed deeply and affected an air of serenity. Whatever his true emotions, he would appear composed. 

Michael smiled at him and Castiel knew that even if his brother could not tell him in words, he was grateful for Castiel’s sacrifice. 

Heads held high, they walked together out of the tent and towards Castiel’s future as Dean Winchester’s husband and prize.


	3. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV. 
> 
> This chapter contains light feminization and mentions of oppressive marriage traditions.

Dean had always imagined that on his wedding day he would have Sam by his side and his father’s approval. He had imagined his father would be there with him, that he would give his blessing to the whole event. Dean had never imagined that his father might be dead by the time he came to wed. He had never imagined that Sam would be held captive many hundreds of miles away. 

Dean was certain Sam would hear of his marriage eventually. Dean was not stupid. He knew there would be spies around, those who would carry word back to the capitol about Dean’s alliance with the Angels. He knew Sam would be upset on his behalf, angry that Dean had been maneuvered into such a position, but it was one Dean would gladly take if he could save Sam from the same fate. His brother would not be forced into marriage if Dean could help it. 

At least Dean found Castiel of the Angels beautiful and he thought they might come to find mutual comfort from their union. Dean did not think Sam would be in the same boat as him. 

The sun was high in the sky when Dean rode down to the Angel’s camp. It was a glorious day. Dean found himself wishing they had time to do this thing properly. There should be a feast with speeches and song. There should be dancing. There should be a wedding night to be celebrated and a breakfast the morning after. 

There was one part of the wedding breakfast Dean was glad they were skipping. Dean could do very well without the inspection of the sheets the morning after their wedding night. He had no doubt that Castiel was a virgin. He did not need to make the boy bleed to prove the truth of that. A man who was skilled in bed knew that blood was a sign, not of virginity, but of something having gone wrong. Yet still the tradition was enforced. Dean was glad that an impending battle meant they could forgo that particular wedding ritual. 

He took with him only a small entourage. He had a small group of followers – a few hundred or so men loyal to himself – and from that he had picked those who accompany him. He brought with him his half-brother, Adam Milligan, the brother he had been able to save and flee with. Joanna Harvelle, his trusted friend since childhood, and her mother, Lady Ellen. There was Lady Charlie of Bradbury; Dean’s favored knight and personal guard in the group too. Dean knew that it was unusual for a man to surround himself with so many women as advisers but Dean had always been unusual. 

Charlie was a skilled swords woman. Dean had never seen a woman more at home with a knife in her hand than Joanna and Lady Ellen could hit a moving target with a crossbow bolt from across the length of a field. If anything where to happen today, Dean felt his safest having them at his side. 

He also brought with him Sir Robert Singer, his father’s oldest and dearest friend. Sir Robert had been like a second father to Dean and if Dean could not have his own father by his side, then he could have Sir Robert there in his stead. 

There was a large tent erected for the wedding ceremony. Dean was used to campaigning, to living inside tents and moving from place to place. He had been a soldier since he was fourteen years of age and he had trained with a sword from a good deal younger. Still, in all his time he had never seen anything quite like the huge white wedding tent. Marriages on campaign where not usually conducted with this level of pomp and circumstance. They were hurried things before the dawn, done to legitimize children or make a love vow before the ever-present shadow of death overtook. 

This, Dean reminded himself, was different. This was the joining of two noble households. Even if it had to be a rushed affair, it still carried with it an air of dignity. 

Dean dismounted, leaving his horse to be tended by a servant and entered the tent. It was full of people talking and laughing, dressed in regal clothes that where years out of date. They were all the Angels and their followers had and they wore them with pride. 

Dean was soon grasped by the hand by a firm, efficient woman and led to the center of the tent. 

“I am Castiel’s aunt,” she said. “Naomi of the Angels. You will wait here and Castiel will be brought to you.” 

She left Dean there, standing on his own and Dean reminded himself that this was a partnership that brought the Angels as much as it brought Dean. He did not think they meant to kill him, although he felt like a goose brought in for slaughter. 

The guests in the tent formed a circle around Dean and if he had wanted to escape from them, he couldn’t. He had lost sight of his own party. For all he had thought about precautions, Dean had walked on ahead for them and now he was separated from them. 

The silence fell suddenly. Dean could hear only the beating of his own heart but then music struck up. It was a wedding march. Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the circle part and Michael appeared, leading Castiel to Dean’s side. Castiel did not look the same as he had done the day before when Dean met him. 

He had been prepared in the old-fashioned style, his face painted and his body adorned in white silks and lace. He looked like a porcelain figurine, much too dainty for Dean to put his hands on. He had not looked like that the day before. At that time Dean had been able to inspect almost all of him and he had seen the boy had muscles. He had strong thighs too and Dean had spent a pleasurable time fantasizing about being between them. 

The music stopped and there was silence again. 

Finally, Michael spoke. 

“Dean of Winchester,” he said, removing Castiel’s hand from his arm and holding it out to Dean. “This is our gift to you, a son of our household. Treat him with kindness; treat him with respect, for from this day on he is yours.” 

Dean took Castiel’s hand in his own, holding it tightly and he felt a rush of warmth through his body. Castiel was his now. They were joined together in a union that could only be ended in death. 

“Thank you for your gift,” he said solemnly. “I accept him with all my heart.” 

Dean wondered if Castiel would speak, if he would give his blessing to the union or if Michael’s blessing was enough for both of them. Castiel’s pretty pink mouth stayed firmly shut as Dean stared at him and eventually, Dean realized Castiel was not going to say anything. 

He leaned forward and softly, gently, took his first kiss as a married man. 

Distantly, Dean was aware of clapping, even the sound of cheering but his focus was all on Castiel’s lips. They were roughened with the pink pigment that had been smeared on them and Dean couldn’t wait to wash it off and kiss them when they were naked. Castiel tasted like honey and wine. He had been drinking, Dean thought and pulled back quickly. He thought Castiel wanted this wedding, that he accepted it the same as Dean did, but if he had been drinking to get through it, could that really be the case? 

Castiel looked at him in confusion but Dean turned away, pulling him by his hand through the crowd, looking for his own group of family and friends, finding them pushed towards the back of the tent, where the Angels and their followers had crowded forward, eager to see the wedding. 

Dean suddenly felt disgusted with the whole charade and eager to move on to battle.

Battle he understood. His new husband, he did not.

Ellen caught him by the chin, reaching up to dab at his mouth with a handkerchief. 

“Your lips are bright pink,” she said teasingly, brushing away the traces of Castiel’s paint from his mouth. “How unbecoming it looks on you, Dean.”

“Yes, red would have been better,” Charlie said, smiling at him. 

Dean did not say anything. He let go of Castiel’s hand and pushed the boy forward, letting his party inspect him. 

Ellen fussed over the lace on his gown, something she had not seen in years and Adam complimented him and called him brother, exchanging a kiss on the cheek as was customary. There was gentle teasing about how powdered and white Castiel’s face was and the fact that fashions had moved on since the Angels had last been in court. Sir Robert only grunted when faced with Castiel and intoned without much enthusiasm that “he would do”. 

Dean wondered if that was how his father would have felt, if he would have been disappointed with Dean for accepting Castiel as his offer or for accepting the marriage at all. Dean did not know and he could never ask him. 

He had made his bed now, for himself and Castiel both, and when they stopped travelling tonight, they would have to lie in it.


	4. The Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel finally spend some time alone.

Castiel did not know what he had expected married life to be like, only that he had thought he would spend more time with his husband than he had. Dean had left him to give orders to the army and Castiel had been ushered into a waiting carriage to ride with Adam, Dean’s younger half-brother and his own brother Gabriel. The whole camp had been in disarray, being packed up and moved on. 

He seemed to have already angered his husband. Castiel didn’t know what he’d done but Dean seemed eager to be away from him. Castiel had hoped things would go well for the two of them, that they could both behave with dignity but already Dean’s family had ridiculed him and his clothes. They had mocked his wedding outfit, even though it was beautiful and expensive. They had mocked him and his family’s traditions. 

Castiel had not said anything though. He had bitten his tongue and remained impassive, trying to be the dutiful husband he was supposed to be but he did not look forward to his future as part of Dean’s family. He didn’t think they either wanted or accepted him. 

Anahita was brought to him before their ride could start and Castiel spent the journey with the cub asleep in his lap. He found her a pleasing distraction, brushing his fingers through her soft fur. Adam was enchanted by the idea of a tiger cub being given as a wedding present. Castiel was amazed to hear how much courtly life had changed since his family was driven away. Exotic and rare beasts had always been wedding presents when his family ruled the land. 

Gabriel mentioned off-handily that he had had a beautiful silver wolf as his wedding gift. His face became set and his eyes stony when Adam asked where it was now. 

“Dead within weeks, much like my marriage,” he said coldly. 

The rest of the ride proceeded in silence. 

Castiel spent much of it watching Adam. He did not greatly resemble his brother, but when he turned his head or scowled, Castiel could see flashes of Dean in his features. He found it surprising that Dean elevated his half-brother to such a level, to bring him to his wedding as an honoured guest and let him ride in the carriage with his husband. 

Adam was illegitimate. His birth, and John Winchester’s acceptance of him, had been a scandal. It was one thing to have a child out of wedlock, but another thing to take him in and raise him with your heirs. 

Still, it seemed Dean followed in his father’s footsteps in that respect, still caring for his brother even after his father’s death. Castiel dug his fingers into Anahita’s fur, rubbing harder than before. If Dean thought Castiel would accept his bastards and raise them alongside their own children, then he was wrong. Courtly life might have changed, but the Angels had not and Castiel would not share his husband in that way. 

Still, even though he feared that Dean might already have a mistress or children by someone else, Castiel found himself pleased that Dean had not rejected Adam out of hand. It spoke of a family bond that Dean would continue to protect his half-brother and Castiel believed strongly in family. If Dean did have illegitimate children then Castiel would not object to them being given titles or land. He only objected to raising them as if they were his own. 

They travelled for the best part of the day, stopping only to eat a light lunch of cheese and bread with some of Gabriel’s favourite rose flavoured water to quench their thirst. Castiel shared his portion with Anahita but the cub ate very little and Castiel determined she would have meat for her main meal. Everything was stilted. Adam was a stranger to them and Castiel was not so impolite as to discuss his fears in front of him. He also did not trust the boy not to run straight to Dean and tell him that Castiel thought he and his family were rude. Castiel did not want to begin his married life by making things worse than they already were. 

The sun was setting by the time they trundled in to the hastily constructed camp, many miles from where they had started out that morning. The servants must have been working hard to set everything up, but still there was work going on. Castiel knew that in a few days there would be a battle a little west of their position but that was all he knew. 

Dean greeted him, having travelled on ahead on horseback. He lifted Castiel down from the carriage with great care and Castiel could almost believe that Dean did care for him. 

Castiel had travelled in his wedding outfit. He would not take it off until his husband undressed him but now it was covered in the mottled red and black fur of his tiger cub. Dean raised an eyebrow looking him over but didn’t say anything on the matter. 

“Our tent has already been erected,” he said, although he did not sound terribly pleased. “It’s getting late. We should retire.” 

“Yes,” Castiel agreed.

The fear he had felt that morning dawned on him again. He had been able to push it away before. They had been travelling for so long that the prospect of the wedding night seemed far off but now it was here and Castiel could not ignore it any longer. He still had the oil Gabriel had given him and the dagger. He hoped he did not have need for the second item. 

Castiel turned quickly, taking Anahita from Gabriel’s waiting arms and then he followed his husband across the camp, heading for their marriage bed. 

When they reached the tent, Dean lifted the flap for Castiel and let him enter on ahead of him. Castiel glanced around, noting with a sinking feeling in his stomach that there was no partition or place he could hide himself away for a few minutes to prepare as Gabriel had suggested. He could not exactly lie down and finger himself open in front of Dean. The room was sparse. There was a hastily constructed bed but very little in the way of anything else. Certainly nowhere for Castiel to be private. 

Castiel placed Anahita on the floor and turned to face his husband. 

Despite himself, he was shaking. 

“I am ready,” he said, forcing himself to believe those words. 

Dean did not look convinced but he crossed the room to him. He reached out and touched the silk at Castiel’s shoulder before he grabbed a handful of it, dragging it down, baring Castiel’s chest to the cool air inside the tent. Castiel trembled all the harder. 

“Be gentle,” he whispered, not certain if he was demanding or begging. 

Dean blinked at him, surprised.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said slowly. 

Castiel nodded but he did not feel convinced. Everything felt wrong, forced and horrible. Dean had mocked him before, why wouldn’t he mock Castiel’s fear now? Castiel could not prepare himself, could not protect himself. Even if he had understood that eventually his marriage would mean being bedded, he was not ready for the actuality of the fact. Castiel’s chest felt tight and he found it hard to breath. He hoped that Dean would simply take him quickly and let it end before Castiel had time to register things fully. 

There was a scuffling noise and then Anahita was yowling. It was an angry sound, pitiful coming from a cub so young and Castiel felt as if she was crying for him, voicing his fear. She had climbed on to the bed and was standing in the middle of it, her small body shielding them from being able to use it.

“Anahita, off,” he said softly. 

This could not be postponed. It could not be prevented. 

“No,” Dean said, his hand moving to cup Castiel’s cheek, turning the boy to face him. “We do not have to do this.”

“Stop it!” Castiel said angrily, pushing Dean’s hand away. “Stop pretending to be kind. Stop smiling at me, stop gentling me. You have already humiliated me once today. Do not do it again now!”

He did not want to leave the tent until he had done his duty. He did not want Dean to laugh at him, to humiliate him with tales of his frigid Angel husband who was frightened of his touch. 

“This is wrong. We both know this is wrong,” Dean hissed. “We might be married, Castiel, but that does not mean we have to force ourselves. I will not hurt you. I made your brother a promise that I would show you kindness and respect. Taking you now, when you do not want it, would be breaking my vow.”

He leaned in then and kissed Castiel with surprising tenderness.

“When you say you are ready and you truly mean it, we will consummate this marriage. Anything before then would be an abomination.” 

Castiel stared at Dean and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

He believed Dean. He believed that Dean would wait for him.

He knew he had failed in his duty, that he had failed in the one thing he was supposed to do which was let Dean bed him. They could not conceive an heir while Castiel remained a virgin. Castiel should be braver, should accept his fate but he was grateful to Dean for giving him this time and this choice. 

“Then what do we do tonight? And what about when they ask tomorrow morning?” he asked, remembering that they would need to show their wedding sheets, the proof that Castiel had been a virgin. It would be a disgrace to both of them if they could not produce them. 

Dean scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, we lie and if anyone asks to see the sheets, I’ll cut my arm and we can pretend it’s your blood. That should keep tongues from wagging.” 

“And tonight?”

“I will sleep on the floor if you would like me to,” Dean offered.

“No,” Castiel said quickly, reaching out to take his hand. “I would like you to sleep beside me. We must grow used to sharing each other’s bed.”

He smiled at Dean and Dean smiled back. 

It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, Castiel found. He did not know what he’d expected of Dean, he had not had time to form any opinion of him but he had not expected him to care so much for Castiel’s wellbeing. Castiel did not fear to sleep in the same bed as him. In fact, he looked forward to falling asleep and waking up in his husband’s arms.

Dean was right. Castiel would feel ready eventually. They had known each other hardly more than a day. Patience and time would see them right, even if they were unlikely bedfellows.

Castiel only worried that they would not have the time they needed, not with the battle brewing.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel deal with the morning after their wedding night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap between updates. I'm working on a number of big bang deadlines but I haven't forgotten this fic. 
> 
> Thank you for keeping up with it!

As the morning light filtered into their tent, Dean cut his arm and held it out, letting a few drops of blood fall on to the white sheets. Castiel watched him, his mouth set in a frown and his brow lined.

“Do you only need those few drops?” he asked.

“There shouldn’t be any blood,” Dean said, holding a bit of cloth to his arm to stop the bleeding. “Not if it’s done properly. It’s only for show, only because you should be tight your first time. People want proof that you’re a virgin.”

Castiel nodded slowly. Dean found it impossible not to feel sorry for him. All of this was new to Castiel.

“Don’t you want proof?” Castiel asked him quietly.

“I trust you,” Dean said. “If you tell me you’re a virgin, then I believe you. I don’t need to hurt you to get my proof.”

He watched Castiel’s face, watched the confusion there. If Castiel wasn’t a virgin, he was doing a very good job of pretending.

Dean had never worried before taking a tumble in the sheets; it had never been an issue for him.

He knew why virginity and then fidelity was insisted upon for Castiel. Dean should not bring up another man’s child as his heir. It was a system which favoured Dean. He wouldn’t carry their child, Castiel would. Dean could have affairs, keep whores, have bastards, but Castiel had to remain completely impeachable.

Dean rolled his sleeve down, hiding the cut.

“We should go,” he said. “People will want to see us.”

Castiel nodded. It took Dean a moment to make a decision but then he reached out and took hold of Castiel’s hand, holding it tightly in his own. He wouldn’t make Castiel walk behind him.

He would treat Castiel as his equal and ensure, from that moment on, that everyone else did as well.

**

Their bed sheets were paraded through the camp. Dean knew that Castiel was embarrassed. His face was perfectly schooled, his eyes blank but Dean knew that underneath that cool, practised facade, there was a stubborn boy whose pride was greatly hurt.

People were celebrating the supposed loss of his virginity; they were celebrating his first bedding. It’s almost too public, as if they were forced to fuck in front of the whole army to prove their marriage. 

Dean kept Castiel close to him. He knew he could bask in the supposed glory, could enjoy being patted on the back and congratulated for his prowess, but he couldn’t do that. It was all a lie and even if it wasn’t, it would still be wrong. It would only further demean Castiel. 

There was an attempt at a wedding breakfast. Dean sat at the table top, Castiel at his side. Dean could hardly look at the food on his plate. He glanced at Castiel from the corner of his eye, watching Castiel pick at his food but he had no appetite either. Dean wished he could excuse Castiel, could send him back to their tent so he didn’t need to endure this, but he couldn’t. They both had to appear, both had to be seen to be happy and pleased. 

Dean reached for Castiel’s hand. He held it underneath the table and squeezed it tight when he saw Castiel begin to flag. He hoped that Castiel would take strength from him. He hoped that Castiel would know that Dean wished this could be different. 

Everything went well for some time. People were eating and drinking, talking amongst themselves. No one seemed aware of the lie that Dean and Castiel had begun. That was for the best. If it was discovered, Dean couldn’t think of a way that they could recover. It would be a huge insult to Castiel’s family. His own reputation would be dented. 

They had to keep lying now they’d started and they had to make it convincing. 

Finally, once they had been at the breakfast feast for an hour, Dean decided he can send Castiel back to their tent. 

“Do you want to leave?” he asked quietly.

Castiel nodded slowly.

Dean stood, helping Castiel to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Michael stand too and start to stride towards them. Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He wondered if Michael knew that it wasn’t Castiel’s blood on the sheets, if he could have found out somehow or if he was angry with Dean and meant to remind him that Castiel had been given to him to care for, not to hurt. 

Michael neared them and Dean waited, unsure what he would do yet but hoping some idea would come to him before Michael reached them. Nothing sprung to mind. Michael, though, embraced Dean warmly when he reached him. He kissed his cheek and called him brother. Dean was too stunned to respond but Michael had already moved on to Castiel, who Dean realised was the real object of Michael’s attentions and the real reason Michael had come up. 

Michael smiled fondly at Castiel and pressed a hand to Castiel’s flat, firm stomach. 

“Do you think you have conceived?” he asked hopefully. “We are all counting on you, Castiel.”

Castiel looked quickly at Dean, his eyes wide. Dean stepped behind him, wrapping an arm around Castiel and pressing his own hand to Castiel’s stomach.

“I am certain Castiel will be with child soon,” he said.

Michael nodded, looking pleased with the answer. Dean held on to Castiel tightly. He could feel how Castiel was as still as stone in his arms and he knew that Castiel was scared. He didn’t know if Castiel was scared because of what Michael was asking, or scared because of the answer that Dean had given for him. 

Eventually, Dean knew he had to get Castiel pregnant. They needed an heir to solidify their power and their union. If Dean couldn’t provide Castiel with a child, people would begin to talk. They would doubt Dean. No one wanted a King who could not produce an heir. If they did not talk about Dean, then they would talk about Castiel and there would be pressure on him to take part in all sorts of rituals to help him conceive. Dean did not want that. He knew that those rituals would take a toll on Castiel’s body. Some of them involved dark magic and he was not willing to put his new husband through that sort of danger. 

“If you will excuse us,” Dean said quickly, seeing a way to extract both himself and Castiel from the conversation. “I would like to spend some time alone with Castiel. We have only had one evening together so far, hardly enough for a newly married couple.”

“Of course,” Michael said.

“We will talk later. We must plan strategy,” Dean said over his shoulder. He walked Castiel away from the breakfast table and back to their own tent. 

The moment the flap closed behind them, he let go of Castiel, stepping away from him to give him space.

Castiel took a deep breath, turning to face Dean, his hands pressed against his stomach. 

“They’re all expecting me to bear a child and we haven’t…”

“It will be fine,” Dean promised, pulling Castiel close to him and kissing him gently. “We’ll wait, Castiel. We’ll wait until you want this.”

It didn’t matter what rumours start or what people might say about Dean. He wouldn’t push Castiel to do something he wasn’t ready for. Carrying a child was hard enough; Castiel shouldn’t suffer in the conception. 

Castiel nodded, although he didn’t look completely convinced by Dean’s reassurance. 

**

Dean was alone when Gabriel found him. One moment, Dean was sitting by himself, contemplating the battle he was about to undertake and the next, Gabriel appeared at his side, smiling at him. 

“I know the truth about Castiel,” he said and to Dean it felt like a punch in the gut. 

“What do you want?” he demanded.

He remembered Gabriel as manipulative and deceitful. He probably hadn’t changed. 

“Nothing,” Gabriel said, looking offended. “Castiel told me. I’ve come to congratulate you. I gave him a dagger to use on you; I hadn’t realized he wouldn’t need it.” 

“A dagger?” Dean repeated.

He’d had no idea that Castiel had had that on him the night before. Unbidden, a memory sprung up in the mind, the memory of a much younger Gabriel with a bruise on his cheek. He remembered his father pointing it out and telling Dean that Gabriel was shaming his husband’s family by not covering the mark up. Dean felt ill. That had been what Gabriel was expecting for his brother, for Dean to hurt him. 

“I would never give Castiel cause to use that,” he said hotly. 

“You’re obviously more worthy of Castiel than I believed,” Gabriel said. 

Dean stared at him, confused by this break from tradition and convention. Gabriel wasn’t supposed to congratulate him for not bedding Castiel. He wasn’t supposed to suggest it made Dean a better man. Dean knew that for most people, it would have marked him out as weak but Gabriel had a different understanding of these things. 

“Maybe you will be a good King,” Gabriel said thoughtfully, much to Dean’s surprise. 

**

To Dean’s even greater surprise, he won his first battle with ease.


	6. The Roads to Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel discuss the past and the roads that have led them to their marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about backstory!
> 
> It's very backstory heavy but it's important because without it we can't go on to meet Sam! 
> 
> Also, there are mentions of death and executions.

Dean’s victory on the battlefield had brought to the camp much joy. There had been drinking and dancing, celebrations lasting late into the night. It had been a good distraction as far as Castiel was concerned. No one was paying attention to what he and Dean did. There had been no more discussion of children. Castiel knew the conversation would turn that way again. They were travelling already, preparing for a new battle. Soon the pleasure of the last one, of their victory, would dim and attention would return to the future. 

Castiel and any child he could produce would be important to that future. He could not wait forever before he let his husband bed him. Dean seemed in no great hurry and he had already given his word that he would not force Castiel before he was ready. It did comfort Castiel know that but he also knew that they were figureheads for the untied family, for an army. The consummation of their marriage meant more than their own feelings did. 

Castiel thought sometimes that he might enjoy being bedded. Dean was gentle with him. He held him close when they slept at night, his arms encircled tight around Castiel. Castiel, with his head pillowed on Dean’s chest, felt as if the outside world could not touch him. 

He came to love those moments when the rest of the world retreated and he and Dean were left alone. It was the time when they could speak to each other without formality. There was still so much they did not know about each other. Castiel knew roughly about Dean and Dean, of course, was informed about The Angels but he knew very little about Castiel as a person. 

The time they spent wrapped up in each other’s arms was the time when they truly began to understand each other. 

“My mother died when I was still very young,” Dean said, stroking his fingers along Castiel’s back. “I was four and my brother, Sam, was only a babe in arms. For some time there was talk that my father would remarry but he never did. He took a serving woman as a lover. She bore him Adam and he acknowledged him.”

“Does that never upset you?” Castiel asked. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “As a child, I was angry. I thought he was being disrespectful to my mother’s memory, but now I am older. I know about needs and desires. I know also that he did what was best for Adam. It would have been monstrous to keep him below stairs, serving his own brothers.” 

“But he is still a bastard, he has no prospects,” Castiel said simply.

“His prospects are worse now, but he could have married well. My father could have made a good arrangement for him. One of the lower families or a loyal soldier would have made a fine match. Adam’s child could have risen higher.” Dean was silent for a moment, a frown stretched across his lips. “I suppose I must arrange a match for him but who would have him now?”

“When you are the king, even if he is a bastard, he will still be the half-brother of a king,” Castiel said, pushing himself up until he leaned over Dean. He kissed him softly. “You can marry him to an adviser or one of the older houses then.”

“Like your brother married you off to me?” Dean asked humourlessly. 

“I do not think this is such a bad match,” Castiel said. “It could have been much worse. I have so many uncles and cousins. Sometimes, our family wars within itself, especially since we have been wandering for so long. Factions split, old rifts are re-opened time and again. Michael might easily have married me to one of the old men of our house to strengthen our family ties.” 

“You would have been unhappy with an old man,” Dean said. “I am sure, Castiel, that you have more fire in you than you let anyone see. An old man would bore you.” 

Castiel felt his cheeks flush red and he bent his head to kiss Dean again. He thought it would be very easy to give in to Dean. He was a flatterer. He had a silver tongue, he spoke with such charm that he could call the birds down from the trees and make the rivers flow backwards if he put his mind to it. 

Dean brought his hands down to hold Castiel firmly by the hips and for a few moments they kissed, consumed by each other before Dean broke away.

“Is that what happened with your other brother? With Lucifer? Did he leave?” he asked. “I have not had the courage to ask Michael.”

Castiel sat back, brushing his hair from around his face. He pursed his lips. 

“Michael would tell you, but he still cares for Lucifer deeply. The story you would get from him wouldn’t be the truth. He still defends Lucifer even though his rash deeds led in part of our being usurped,” he said, looking at Dean hard because it still amazed him how quickly things changed in a few years.

Dean should, by rights, be his enemy. Dean’s father had been part of the nobles who had dethroned Michael. Dean himself had fought in some of the battles. They should have killed him on sight, not invited him in and formed an allegiance with him but made an enemy into an ally. Dean could help them win back their throne. They were now fighting for the same cause. Even so, he still felt as if he was betraying his family to speak badly of his brothers, even if Dean was now his husband and deserved to know.

“I will tell you what happened to me, if you tell me what happened with your brother,” Dean said. “Or you can ask me any question and I will answer you honestly.”

That was an offer Castiel was loath to turn down. There were so many things he wanted to ask Dean. He wanted to know what had happened to Dean’s father. He wanted to know about the brother Dean hardly spoke of. He wanted to know if Dean had lovers or children. He wanted to know everything about Dean. If it meant sharing his past with Dean then that was the price he would have to pay. 

“We were all together for the first few years. There were so many of us. Michael was not married. He still will not marry, although I don’t know why. It would have solved so many problems if he did. If he had an heir, a child of his own, all of those problems with Lucifer would not have arisen in the first place.”

Dean nodded. They both knew the story well enough. Michael had indulged his younger brothers as if they were his children. He had had Gabriel’s cruel husband murdered and that had set tongues wagging. Then, he had announced Lucifer as his heir apparent and that had caused ripples. Lucifer, for all his beauty, was cruel. He enjoyed pain and he enjoyed his power over others. He found reasons to execute those who crossed him, no matter their rank. Michael could have curbed him, could have issued pardons but he didn’t. He allowed Lucifer a chance to taste the power of a king and Lucifer abused it badly. 

It was the execution of a serving boy who had spilled some wine mistakenly on his sleeve that was the tipping point. It was so excessive, so horribly cruel, that Michael would probably have stepped in but he had been away from home, visiting the outer laying territory. 

In his absence, John Winchester had rallied the other lords and their displeasure became outright mutiny. No one was safe, not their sons or their daughters. Anyone, for any reason, could fall prey to Lucifer and his lust for blood. He was a madman and Michael would put him on the throne if given the chance. 

The Angels fall from grace was swift and sudden.

Castiel had been only a boy then. He was hardly aware of anything that was happening. Certainly, he knew very little of Lucifer’s cruelty although he learned it when he grew older. He had only known that one day he had been taken far from his home and told he could not go back, not until they had raised an army. Castiel had almost forgotten what his old home had been like. He had grown used to tents and a constant nomadic lifestyle. 

“Eventually, Lucifer began to challenge Michael,” Castiel continued, rousing himself from his memory to continue his story. “He felt that Michael was not prepared to do what was necessary to ensure our survival. They fought, so often and so badly. Michael, even though he loved him, could not stand him by the end. Lucifer took those who were loyal to him and set out into the desert. That was the last we ever saw of him. No news reached us after that. I believe he must have died out there.” He paused for a moment and then spat out. “He deserved to die in the heat, far away from his family. He was a monster.”

Dean was silent for a long moment. Castiel wondered if he was horrified to hear Castiel speak like that. Lucifer was a monster, there was no point in denying it but Castiel still should. It was a matter of family honour. 

“I am responsible for my father’s death,” Dean said after the silence had grown so large, Castiel was almost afraid of it. 

“How?” Castiel asked. “I don’t understand.”

“We made laws, punishments, after your family were dethroned. We promised never again would anyone be protected because of who their family was. I started a bar fight that saw the son of another noble family killed. I did not kill him, I did not strike the blow but my actions led to his death. My father had options – he could exile me, send me to do penance, send me to serve at the outer territories but he wouldn’t. He pardoned me. In doing that, he signed his own death warrant. The other families fell on him as a traitor.” 

“I managed to escape. I had been at home on our estate with Adam, under house arrest, and when word reached us that our father had been imprisoned, we escaped and ran. My other brother, Sam, was not so lucky. He was with our father. Our father was executed but Sam remains imprisoned. I fear he will soon face either his own death or a fate as bad as it. I fear he will be married to one of the other families. He is a Winchester and the bloodline is still important, even if we are traitors now.” 

“So you’re fighting for your brother then and his freedom?” Castiel asked. 

Dean nodded.

Castiel clasped Dean’s hand in his; bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss his palm and then his fingers. 

“You are not a monster then. Lucifer did everything with an eye on his own position. You want to save your brother, Dean. That is a noble.” 

“But Sam shouldn’t be suffering because of what I did!”

“Dean, he isn’t. Your father knew the law and he broke it. This was your father’s doing, not yours,” Castiel said. 

He had lived with a family that tore itself apart over fault. Dean should not doubt himself. Castiel felt confident blaming the dead. The dead could not argue back about the truth of what had happened. 

Dean held Castiel tight against him, gripping him as if he was frightened that any moment Castiel would be ripped from his arms.

“Do you hate me? Do you hate me because I came here and your brother gave you to me?” he asked. 

Castiel shook his head firmly.

“No, I don’t hate you, Dean. I feared what my future husband would be like. I dreamed of kind men who might take me away and you have been kinder than all of my imaginings.” 

Dean sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You deserve better than this,” he murmured. 

Their marriage remained unconsummated for another night.


	7. Sam's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam hears some worrying news and receives an offer he may be forced to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence. 
> 
> It's also the first chapter from Sam's POV so we're taking a break from Dean and Cas for just this chapter.

When he was a boy, Sam’s favorite bedtime story involved a princess trapped in a tower. He begged for it over and over again, although now he was older he could only remember the vaguest details of it. He remembered the tower. 

Now Sam’s life had become that bedtime story. 

His world conceivably extended outside of his tower prison, but Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that he couldn’t go anywhere without an escort. He was always being watched. The promise of freedom was really a lie and Sam wasn’t about to believe that lie. The only times he left his room was when he was forced to leave. 

At first, Sam had suspected he was going to die. He had been present at his father’s execution and as soon as the axe fell, Sam expected to follow him up to the block. He had been escorted to his tower room instead and told to wait. Sam kept waiting. Slowly, he realised that his death was not what was planned.

Sam was a tool. He was a bargaining chip. 

His brother Dean was still alive and he would be coming for him. Sam was alive because he could stop Dean. Dean would hesitate before attacking anywhere he was kept. 

Sam had never cared for the politics of court. As John Winchester’s second son, he had been forced to study diplomacy, to learn how to address the other families and to hear the words they weren’t saying. He understood that he was still alive because he was useful. 

There was a knock on the door. Sam didn’t know why anyone bothered with the formality. He couldn’t refuse them entry. Even now, he supposed the rules of court had to be observed. They had to pretend to be polite, even when they were holding knives behind their backs. 

The knock came again but Sam didn’t answer. He looked out of the window, staring up at the sky. 

He heard the click of the door as it opened.

Sam already knew who would be there. Probability already told him. 

He turned to look at the man. At some point, the man would have been considered beautiful but his face had been ravaged by time and the blistering heat of the desert. He had scars on his arms and one on his face, the remnants of an assassination attempt. 

They called him Lucifer of the Demons but Sam knew who he had been. Everyone knew who he had been. He had been Lucifer of the Angels once and now he had come full circle. He had planned and schemed, allied himself with one of the smaller families and helped them climb the ranks, always a shadow, never showing himself. 

He had picked off the heads of the old families, poisoning them to hasten their deaths or using their own laws against them. John Winchester had been the last chess piece, the last one he need to topple and now the Demons were in charge. It was a monarchy again, even though the council still existed. They existed under the thumb of Lucifer. 

Sam was almost impressed with his patience. He would never have expected the head strong, cruel boy his father had spoken of would be capable of such strategic planning. His time in the wilderness had taught Lucifer well. 

“Lucifer,” Sam greeted him, nodding his head towards the man. 

“Sam,” Lucifer said. 

He moved to sit next to Sam on the window seat. Sam didn’t bother to move away or show his displeasure. He knew it only amused Lucifer when he did. 

“To what do I owe this visit?” he asked. 

Lucifer came to visit him more than anyone else. Sam had seen other members of the Demon family, but only once or twice. Lucifer came nearly every day. Sometimes he came to taunt Sam, to relive the moment of his father’s death with him. Other days he came to try to bargain with him. He had offered Sam the world if he would write a letter to Dean telling him to call off his march towards the capitol. Sam had declined. 

That had been the first time Lucifer had hit him. Since then, any refusal had been met with the back of the man’s hand. Sam had bruises all over his body, a split lip. It pained him greatly but he declined to show it. Sam would not allow himself to look weak.

 

“Lucifer,” he prompted again. “Why are you here?”

“I received word this morning that your brother has made an alliance with another family,” Lucifer said. He frowned. “This information was rather late. Apparently, your brother approached this family some weeks ago.”

“I’m sure you’ll have the spy sending you information properly punished,” Sam said. 

He didn’t care what happened to Lucifer’s spies. As long as Dean was alive, Sam didn’t mind anything. 

Lucifer laughed. “I’ll keep him alive while he’s still useful to me.”

“Which family has he made the alliance with?” Sam asked. 

He tried not to sound too interested, but he saw the knowing look on Lucifer’s face. 

“You do care, about him, don’t you, Sam? You really think he’s going to come for you.” Lucifer reached out, stroking his fingers gently over Sam’s cheek and the faded bruise he’d left there. “Your brother has made an alliance with my old family, my faithless family. He’s married my little brother, Castiel.”

Sam remembered Castiel. He remembered a little boy. It had been years since then, Castiel must be older now, a teenager. Sam had a hard time imagining how he would look now. It was hard to imagine Dean being married to him, especially considering that their father had been the main instigator in his family’s downfall. 

“Do your family know you’re alive?” he asked. 

“They are not my family,” Lucifer said angrily. “I have a new family, a family I made myself, a better family.”

Sam shook his head, looking away from Lucifer. He couldn’t imagine Dean being married. Dean had always been such a free man. He’d always loved sex. He’d seduced more maids than Sam would have believed one man could. Now he was married and married to a young man. Sam knew Dean had never been restrained. He had seen Dean with soldiers from his battalion and Sam knew lust when he saw it. He was certain his brother was not a stranger when it came to bedding men but being married to one was different. Dean had been forced into taking a path he might not have chosen for himself. 

“Have you ever thought of being married?” Lucifer asked suddenly. 

“What?” Sam said, looking back at him with wide eyes.

“Your brother could hardly strike down his own brother-in-law, could he?” Lucifer leant forward, putting a hand on Sam’s stomach. “Especially not if you were carrying my heir.” 

“Don’t touch me,” Sam hissed. He grabbed hold of Lucifer’s wrist and wrenched his hand away. He got up quickly, walking away from Lucifer. His heart was beating painfully but he tried not to let Lucifer see it. “That’s a no, if you were wondering. I reject your offer.” 

Lucifer stood up slowly. He walked towards Sam. With every step, Sam waited for the blow. When Lucifer reached him, he gripped Sam’s chin in his fingers, his grip bitingly tight and forced Sam to look at him.

“Maybe after a little persuasion, you’ll change your mind,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure some of you were expecting this! 
> 
> So yes, Lucifer is still alive. I wonder what will happen when his family realize.


	8. The Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of calm before an on-coming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between chapters. RL and big bangs have been taking up a lot of my time. Thank you for being patient and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Outside their tent, the world continued as normal. Castiel was aware that they were preparing for another battle. There was always another battle. Forces were amassing to the north who are loyal to the new regime. Dean would have to conquer them before he moved on or they could conceivably swoop in behind, blocking off any line of retreat. 

Castiel had no desire to be slaughtered because of bad tactical planning.

The next battle loomed on the horizon, another war that Dean would no doubt be charge head long into. 

“I couldn't stay on the sidelines,” he said to Castiel. “It wouldn't be fair. The men must see their leader fighting for them. They need to know he would be willing to die for them.” 

Dean, or so Castiel privately believed, was too willing to die. He didn't fear death. That seemed unnatural. 

Inside their tent, the world passed them by. They hardly talked about the battle coming. There were other things to focus on, other things thing to occupy their time. The fact that their marriage was still unconsummated hung over both their heads. It was nearly a month since their wedding vows. Soon, the talk would start. A month seemed an impossibly long time. 

Castiel liked being married. He liked waking up in bed with Dean. He liked Dean's arms around him, liked the way his husband kissed him. He liked Dean but he was still afraid. Gabriel had told him how badly it would hurt. They had not even touched on the subject of childbirth but Castiel knew the mortality rate for young fathers like himself. He was not as eager as his husband to meet death, especially not if he bought their baby with them. 

Castiel had one job, to secure for them a healthy heir, and the thought of failing in that terrified him.

He lay awake in the early hours of the morning, watching Dean sleeping peacefully, and worried about failing him. The thought of dying, of leaving Dean alone, was not something he wanted. Castiel was young, only nineteen, and there were still so many things he wanted to see and do. He wanted to rule with Dean, not as a memory of Dean's first marriage. 

He burrowed down into Dean's arms, laying his head on Dean's chest and nudged his legs between Dean's. Dean's cock was hard. It was not an uncommon occurrence. One or other of them often woke up hard. Dean always apologized and excused himself. Castiel did not know where he went, maybe to one of the camp whores, but Dean always took care of himself. 

Castiel thought of something that made his erection flag. Mostly, he thought of Dean with those self-same whores. He thought of someone else's hands upon his husband, someone else giving him pleasure and that was enough to dull the throbbing in his groin. 

Why should his husband seek out someone else for pleasure? Castiel could help him. 

Lazily, he rocked against Dean, his thigh slipping between Dean's to give them better friction. Castiel's own cock was growing hard. He moved restlessly, kissing Dean's cheek, wanting him awake, not half-asleep. 

“Dean,” he murmured. “Dean, wake up.” 

It took Dean a moment. He yawned and blinked, rolling his hips up against Cas in a way that spoke of experience but not a plan. His body was reacting on instinct. Then he opened his eyes fully, took in the situation and grabbed hold of Castiel. A moment later, Castiel was pinned under him, gasping, as Dean kissed his way down his body. Castiel had long ago abandoned clothes. He was not ashamed of his body, Dean liked how he looked and he had hoped the casual, constant nudity would help them to cross that final boundary. 

Dean's kisses were certainly helping with that. Castiel let his legs fall open, inviting Dean to lie down there. It couldn't hurt as greatly as Gabriel said. Dean was so gentle with him and even if it did hurt, it would be over soon enough. 

Dean mouthed at his thigh, leaving little bruises there and his fingers brushed along Castiel's cock, eliciting a groan from Castiel's mouth. They moved further back then, circling the tight ring of Castiel's hole and Castiel clenched involuntarily. His arousal spiked with fear and he squirmed away from Dean's touch. No matter how ready he told himself he was, it was clear he wasn't. He wasn't ready for the pain he had been promised would come. He wasn't ready to be invaded and overwhelmed in that way. 

Dean pulled away and a moment later his arms were around Castiel. He held him close, kissing his hair, mumming sweet words to him until Castiel's initial fear had passed. 

“I won't do that,” he whispered. “I told you, Castiel. I wouldn't do that until you were ready. I'm sorry. I should have asked.”

“I do want you,” Castiel said, balling his hands into fists. 

He wasn't angry at Dean, but he was angry with himself. How long would he go on teasing? He pulled Dean close, only to push him away and it was dangerous to both of them. Sometimes he wished Dean wasn't so gentle, so considerate to his feelings. If he had simply taken him that first night together, none of this would be an issue now. 

“I want you too, but I won't take you against your will. I want you to enjoy our marriage, Castiel and there are so many things we can do in our marriage bed that don't involve that,” Dean said. He rubbed his hand along Castiel's back and Castiel relaxed. 

“Show me some of those things?” he asked. 

His own erection had died somewhat, but he was still half-hard and the thought of having Dean's hands on him, of having Dean touch him, helped stir it back to life. 

Dean smiled at him. He moved them so Castiel was sat in his lap, facing him. He kissed him slowly, removing the final traces of Castiel's fear. He reached between them, his fingers encircling both their cocks and pulling them flush together. Then he began to move his hand, working it up and down, as Castiel whined and whimpered, trying to move so he could have more. He didn't know what he wanted the most – Dean's hand or the friction of their cocks sliding together but he liked them both. He liked the way Dean kissed him, liked how he held him with his other arm slung loosely around his waist to keep Castiel close. 

This wasn't the sex they were supposed to be having. They could not produce an heir this way. Castiel would never fall pregnant if this was all they did together but for the moment, he could not bring himself to care. All he wanted was to chase after the sweet completion he felt sure was coming. 

A second later he found himself gasping out Dean's name, clutching at the man as he came. It was the first time he had come under the steam of someone else's hand. There had been wet dreams and Castiel had touched himself once or twice when he was feeling rebellious about being saved and made a trophy for marriage, but none of it had ever felt this good. 

He sagged against Dean, moaning gently because Dean's hand was still working over their cocks, Dean was still hard. He reached down, carefully eased Dean's fingers away and took his husband's cock in his own hand. When he was fully-erect, Dean was huge. Castiel could not imagine how Dean would fit inside him without breaking him in two. He moved his hand, getting used to the feeling of Dean's big cock. His movements were tired. He could feel sleep seeping into his bones, but he wanted Dean to come too before Castiel gave in to exhaustion.

He tried to copy what Dean had done but he wasn't as certain as Dean had been. There was a little hesitation in his movement, a little awe at touching another man for the first time. It didn't seem to bother Dean. He tipped his head back, calling out Castiel's name and came over Castiel's fingers. 

Castiel wondered if anyone heard them. Maybe the guards on duty, maybe the people sleeping in the tent nearest theirs. 

If anyone had heard them, it would quell gossip for some time to come. 

Dean collapsed down, dragging Castiel on top of him and he kissed him lightly again. 

“I can show you other things,” he promised, smiling at him.

Castiel smiled back.

Little by little, Dean was chipping away at his fear, but they still had a long way to go yet.


	9. The Second Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second battle does not go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I am so, so sorry that it took me this long to get an update out. Every time I tried to work on it, I just drew a blank. Thank you for sticking around and asking me to update. Although it probably didn't look as if I was doing anything, knowing people were waiting for an update did help me work at this. 
> 
> Secondly, I really hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Dean rallied his men for their second battle months after the first one. In retrospect, Castiel would have said they were still drunk on the ease of their first victory. Dean trained the men, he worked them, but there was still an assumption that their victory would be inevitable. Dean was fighting for a just cause and the armies of the enemy should cave before him.

Castiel could have told him it would never be that simple. 

The lands they fought on were loyal to Dean. Instead of staying in the camp, Castiel and his family were moved to the castle of Sir Robert. It was a comfortable existence, like the one Castiel remembered from his childhood, but he had grown used to tents and to moving from place to place. The castle with its grey walls felt like a prison to him. He watched his little tiger cub prowl the floor of their room, her paws unused to the feeling of a stone floor, her tail twitching angrily at the captivity, and felt just as she did.

Castiel had been in the wilderness too long. He was a wild thing. Dean might have caught him but it would take more than marriage vows to tame him.

If Dean won, then Castiel would always be locked away behind cold stone walls. 

Despite himself, Castiel had doubts. He did not want Dean’s brother to suffer, he did not want Dean to fail but he also did not want to become a caged animal, trapped because of Dean’s victory. He knew that this marriage would always leave him at a disadvantage, that if either of them lost through it, it would be him, but he had not been prepared for what the loss of freedom would mean to him. 

In the days before the battle he found himself drawing away from Dean. 

It was not planned, not something he did consciously, but he found it harder to be around Dean in the confines of Sir Robert’s castle. Dean belonged in these stone walls. He was solid, much like they were. Castiel did not belong and so he felt uneasy in his husband’s arms.

When Dean left for the field of battle, Castiel was not there to kiss him goodbye. 

**

There was a lot of wine. Gabriel had poured him a cup and thrust it into his hand the moment Castiel entered the banqueting hall. There was food on the table as well, and those who were not fit to fight – too important, too weak – were crowded there. The battle had been raging for hours now with no clear outcome and Castiel could not continue to wonder the halls. 

“Are you celebrating?” Castiel asked. “But Dean has not won yet.”

“We’re enjoying the hospitality of our host,” Gabriel said smugly. He lowered his voice. “If Dean doesn’t win, this will be the last chance we get.”

Castiel felt a sudden stab of fear in his heart. It was cold, sending a chill right though him.

“You don’t believe that, do you? That Dean will lose?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“I believe that you didn’t see him away this morning. Is your passion cooling already, Castiel? I know your marriage bed is cold but I thought you two at least enjoyed each other’s company.”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Castiel said, reaching for the glass in his brother’s hand. He did not want Gabriel to drunkenly reveal his secrets to everyone. Although he did care for Dean, they were still far from consummating their marriage.

Gabriel had always been a loud drunk. He did not like fights, Castiel knew that. Gabriel drank to forget, to protect himself from the prospect of the bloodshed outside. If only he could have been one of those sleepy drunks who put themselves to bed with too much wine and not the loudmouth he was. 

“If Dean dies, we can at least marry you off again,” Gabriel said musingly, avoiding Castiel’s attempts to take his glass from him. “I’m spoiled goods, no use to anyone, but you’re still a virgin and there are plenty who’d take you, even with your previous marriage vows.” 

“Gabriel, stop it!” Castiel gasped. “Dean will win! Dean will be fine!”

Gabriel was pessimistic but Castiel was not used to him speaking like this. It made him feel uneasy, made him worry. 

Gabriel stared at him then shook his head mournfully. “The reports aren’t good. You can see for yourself. Go to the tower, there is a spyglass set up there. Our forces are failing badly. I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael comes soon to spirit us away.” 

“No.” Castiel shook his head firmly. “I won’t…no.”

He turned and left the room, determined to see for himself just as Gabriel had said. If he had looked back he would have seen the smile on Gabriel’s face, would have known that he was doing just as Gabriel wanted, but he did not look back. His thoughts were focused on Dean and Dean only. Dean could not lose. It wasn’t right for him to lose. Dean was a courageous man, a righteous man, and he deserved to become the king he was born to be.

He did not deserve to lose the second battle, maybe even lose his life. 

That was not what Castiel wanted for him and Castiel, when conviction set in, was capable of rewriting fate if so needed.  
He ran to the tower and took the spyglass from a shocked Sir Robert. Castiel knew the old man would have preferred to be out on the field of battle, but Dean would have heard of no such thing. The man was too important to him to risk his life and, although Castiel would not have said so where Sir Robert could hear, he was too old. Sir Robert had been confined to the role of tactician and it suited him. He was the victor of many a battle. 

The look on his face now did nothing to calm Castiel’s fears. Sir Robert looked haggard, tired. 

“Where is Dean?” Castiel demanded. “Show me!”

Sir Robert directed the spyglass and Castiel peered through it. He saw Dean ride out under his unfurled banner, leading a charge although his forces were depleted from what they had been when he left that morning. He saw the enemy surround him and drag him down from his horse. He saw the banner torn down and ripped to shreds. 

It was too much for Castiel. He pushed the spyglass away and turned, breathing heavily.

He could not let this happen. He could not let Dean die. 

“I need a horse and armor,” he snapped.

“You’re just a boy,” Lord Robert said. “They’ll kill you.”

“I am not just a boy. I am Castiel of the Angels. No…” Castiel paused, shaking his head. “No, I am Castiel of Winchester. You will fetch me a horse and a sword or I will fetch them myself, but I will not sit idle while my husband fights for his life.”

**

Dean could see no way out of the melee. He had lost sight of Charlie when he was dragged from his horse and he had no idea if she was alive or dead. He had fought back against his attackers, cutting them down with a swing of his sword but there were so many of them and he was already exhausted. 

He knew he had been hit. The wound was to his side. It was not deep but it was enough. At first, he had not felt it, too intent on staying alive but now the tiredness had overwhelmed him and on its heels had come the pain. Dean was losing blood. He was lightheaded. It did not take much for one of the knights to knock him from his feet. 

Dean knew that he would die in the field of battle. He knew that he would lose everything. Sam would never be free. Adam would be hunted down and killed. Castiel would return to the wilderness, be married off again. Dean would never live to love him as he wanted. He would never live to make Castiel happy. They would never have children; never have the marriage they should have had. 

Dean struggled to get back onto his feet, struggled to keep going for Castiel and for his family but he was too weak now. 

The knight, his opponent, raised his sword and Dean waited for the killing blow. 

He turned his head at the last moment and thought he saw Castiel advancing across the battle field, but he knew it could not be Castiel. Castiel was safe and far away from the fight. This was a vision, an angel come to take Dean’s soul. The angel had chosen the form of the person Dean found most pleasing and Dean knew he would welcome death if it came in the form of his Castiel. 

The angel reached him and, with one deft movement, rammed his sword through the chest of the knight who stood above Dean.

Dean blinked in confusion. He was dangerously close to losing consciousness but he reached out for Castiel and took his hand.

This vision was flesh and blood. 

“Why?” he asked.

“You were losing and I…I could not allow it,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. He was safe now that Castiel was here. He knew that deep down in his bones.

**

Their second victory was hard won. The battle had seemed lost until Lord Castiel appeared on the field and rallied the troops. He stepped into heat of battle, cutting down the other side like an avenging angel and pulled his husband from the jaws of death. It was the stuff of legend and soon the news spread throughout the lands. 

It was a startling turn of events, but it set a precedent. 

Castiel was not going to be a glorified figurehead. 

He and Dean would fight together and they would rule together, united.


	10. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean suffers from his injury and learns something new about Castiel.

The injury Dean had received on the battlefield was not life threatening, but it was unpleasant. He had been carried into Lord Robert’s castle and put straight to bed where his sleep was threatful for the next few days. He woke only occasionally and called for water when he did. 

A doctor was sent for and Dean’s wound was inspected and dressed. Castiel stayed at his bedside, watching over him. When Dean woke, he forced a mixture of water and weak ale down his throat and fed him a little broth. He cleaned and re-dressed the wound and slept little, his attention focused on his husband. 

By the fourth day, a little color had returned to Dean’s cheeks and he was able to sit up in bed and receive visitors. Castiel withdrew gracefully, as if he had never been there, and Dean had only his fevered half-memories of Castiel’s care. He felt something had changed between them, but he couldn’t be certain. 

The moment the rest of the world intruded, Castiel was brisk and cool again. 

The first visitor was Adam. His half-brother stood by the side of his bed, his hands clenched.

“You could have died,” he said quietly. 

“I didn’t,” Dean said. 

“But you could have,” Adam said firmly. “What would happen to me then?”

Dean looked at him. It sounded selfish, but he knew that he was Adam’s only champion. Adam was a bastard son. If Dean died, no one would rally around Adam. He would be at the whims of fate. 

“The Angels would take care of you,” Dean said. 

Adam looked doubtful. 

“You know Castiel wouldn’t let me tend to you? He’s been nursing you by himself,” he said. 

“I didn’t know that,” Dean said. 

Caring for the sick was something Adam had always done at home. It was a menial task, one that could be dangerous if there was a disease to catch. It had fallen to Adam because his life was always considered less important than the legitimate heirs of the household. The fact that Castiel had taken the task upon himself was unexpected. 

Adam still looked unhappy, but Dean had no idea how to reassure him. He couldn’t promise his brother that he wouldn’t die and he couldn’t give Adam a role that Castiel wanted to take for himself. Castiel was his husband, it meant he decided on Dean’s care when Dean couldn’t make the choice for himself. Dean knew Adam was floundering, that he didn’t know what to do or where he stood in this union between families, but he would have to find a place for himself. 

Their life was changing and Adam needed to understand that. 

**

Lord Robert was Dean’s second visitors.

He sat down heavily at the bedside, but tried his best to speak lightly for Dean’s sake. 

“Not dead this time, then?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “Not this time. They’ll have to try a little harder in the future.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Dean picked at the blanket covering him, tugging at a loose thread. Lord Robert shifted in his chair. Dean wanted to ask about what had happened. He wanted to know, but part of him was convinced he had dreamed it all. Castiel was the youngest son of the Angels. He had not been trained for battle, he was not a soldier, and yet Dean believed he had seen Castiel strike down a man and save his life. He needed to know if it was true. 

“I thought I saw Castiel on the battlefield,” he said finally, glancing up at Lord Robert. “Was that a dream?” 

“No,” Lord Robert said, shaking his head slowly. “That was no dream. He told me to fetch him a sword and a horse or he’d do it himself. I thought he was going to get himself killed.”

Dean drew in a shaky breath. He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. He had hoped that Castiel had come to him, that Castiel had been the avenging angel he remembered but it had seemed so impossible. Now he knew that Castiel was capable of killing a man, that he could handle a sword. His husband had hidden talents Dean had been unaware of. He wished that someone had told him, had taken him aside and informed him Castiel was a trained swordsman. Maybe Michael feared it would have made Dean unwilling to marry but nothing could be further from the truth. Dean found it attractive. 

There were so many missed opportunities. He could have sparred with Castiel, could have trained with him and they could have strengthened their union through that. Dean had been a soldier for a long time. He knew what happened with men on campaign, knew how fighting together strengthened love and helped it to bloom. When he was better, he would fight side by side with Castiel. 

Lord Robert was still watching him, a knowing smile on his lips.

“What?” Dean asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“I was against this marriage at first,” Lord Robert said. “I thought that any son of the Angels would be tainted, a danger to you. I thought they’d try to give you someone damaged, another Lucifer, but this one isn’t so bad. He’s devoted to you. When he saw you were in danger, he didn’t hesitate. He even told me he was Castiel of Winchester now, not Castiel of the Angels.” 

Dean licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry. He knew how highly Castiel valued his family. He knew that to call himself a Winchester was more than simply a symbol for Castiel. It meant that he considered Dean his family, consider himself a part of Dean’s household. It was not a love confession but it felt like one. Dean wished his husband was there. He wanted to take Castiel in his arms and kiss him, but he was learning that Castiel had trouble expressing himself, especially when they weren’t in private. If Dean had kissed him with Lord Robert present, Castiel would not have been pleased. 

“He’s not so bad,” Lord Robert said again, his voice gruff and thick with feeling. 

Dean smiled at him. He knew that was Lord Robert’s way of saying he approved of the marriage. It had been a gamble. It could have gone wrong. Dean could have married someone he would never love, someone who would never love him back. Castiel could have been touched by the blood lust that affected his brother Lucifer. He could have been cruel and heartless. It could all have been a double-cross and Dean could have been butchered in his sleep. None of that had been the case though. Castiel was a better husband than Dean could have hoped for and Dean was coming to love him a little more day by day.

Now, armed with the knowledge that Castiel had come to his rescue, he was certain that Castiel had come to love him too.


	11. Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really sorry about how long it's taking me to write.

“What where you thinking?” Michael thundered, slamming his hand down on the table top.

Beside him, Gabriel flinched and Raphael looked distinctly uncomfortable, but Castiel, seated and looking smaller and younger than he had in a long time, gave no outward sign of fear. He was composed, his expression unwavering as he gave his answer.

“I was thinking of my husband,” he said. 

It had been four days since he pulled Dean for the battle field. Four days which he had spent by his husband’s side, nursing him back to health. Dean was rallying now, well enough to have visitors. As soon as Castiel had left his side, Michael had pounced, dragging his little brother into dining hall and demanding a family meeting. Castiel had known the topic they would discuss. It was inevitable, just as his being forced into a seat with his brother’s crowding over him had been inevitable. 

“If I had known that you would risk yourself to go into battle after him, I would never have given you to Winchester,” Michael said angrily.

Castiel smiled.

“But you did,” he said and watched now as Michael winced. 

Castiel had been bartered away in marriage. Michael had gained the legitimacy they had been searching for. He had gained an ally and all it had cost him was Castiel. 

“When I trained you to fight, it was with the understanding that you used a sword only in self defense,” Michael said, changing to a different tactic but Castiel remained unmoved. 

Maybe if they had stayed in the capitol, if they had not been exiled, then Castiel’s prowess with a sword would have been unseemly, but they had been outside of court for a long time and Castiel had needed to be a warrior as well as a diplomat. 

“It was self defense,” he said. “I didn’t want a new husband.” 

Michael’s cheeks colored slightly and Gabriel laughed. If Dean had died in battle then, after a suitable period of mourning, Castiel would be married off again. They all knew that to be true. Castiel was the youngest. If Michael knew he was still a virgin, his period of mourning would be even shorter. There would be no need to worry about inconvenient Winchester heirs. Castiel did not want that. He wanted Dean alive. He wanted to stay married to him. 

“You could have been killed,” Michael said after the silence had grown too long.

“But I wasn’t,” Castiel said firmly.

He did not want them to repeat over and over what could have happened. He was alive. Dean was alive. That was all that matter. Nothing else had come to pass and Michael should dwell on the future, not shadows of what might have been. 

Castiel stood up, in no mood to be lectured to any longer. Michael might view himself as the head of the family, might view himself as Castiel’s keeper, and in the past he had been right to do so, but things had changed now. Castiel was married and there was a new family order. Michael did not get to call private meetings like this and berate Castiel for the decisions he made to protect that new family.

“I am not a prize anymore, Michael, you cannot give me out to entice our allies. I am Castiel of Winchester and I belong to Dean. I belonged to him the moment you consented to our marriage. I am not yours and I will not be spoken to like this. I will not be lectured and I will not be chastised. If you wish to return to your former glory, then you may stay, but you will take your orders from me from now on. If you cannot do that, if you cannot stand behind the Winchester banner, then you may leave. I will not stop you, but I will not call you brother either. If you leave, I will not acknowledge you or send you help. You will go back to the wilderness and you will not trouble my thoughts again.” 

The words felt like a victory to Castiel. Too long he had been dragged around, always at the beck and call of his family. He had always been told to put duty first, to subvert his own wishes for the greater good of all of them. Since their exile, he had been their hope, he realized. His marriage had always been their way back from the wilderness. They might have hoped to keep him under the thumb, hoped that he would always bow to them first, and so they had never told him just how important he was, but Castiel knew now.

He made this union work. He was the reason for it’s existence. 

Everything he had always thought made him weak, made him lesser, had actually made him strong. 

Without him, his brothers would have no hope of redemption. They would be lost. 

Now Castiel knew and he would make them swear their allegiance to him and to his cause. 

Gabriel bowed first, a slight smile stretched across his lips. Castiel did not know what game Gabriel was playing, but he did know that Gabriel prefered things to be simple. He would never go back to the wilderness. His allegiance was almost a given.

Michael took longer. He seemed confused, torn between pride and anger, but finally he bowed too. 

“You are right,” he murmured as he rose. “You are no longer mine to compel. One day, you will make a good king, Castiel, and I ask only that I am here to see it.” 

Raphael did not bow. He stormed from the room and Castiel let him go. 

He did not care now if Raphael left the safety of Lord Robert’s castle and returned to the wilderness, or if he bowed later, once his anger was gone. Castiel has come to a conclusion, one that he had been putting off for far too long. 

He hugged Gabriel and Michael quickly, grateful that they had seen the sense of his words. 

Then he left them. 

Now that he knew what he had to do, he could not wait. His body throbbed with anticipation. He had waited and Dean had waited with him, but now that time was past. Their union had to be consummated. Castiel felt no doubts about it now. He wanted to give himself to Dean, wanted Dean to hold him in the warmth and safety of their marriage bed. 

He wanted Dean to make him pregnant. 

He had feared having a child, had feared that all he was important for was the production of an heir, but now he realized that once he was pregnant, it cemented his marriage to Dean. There would be no confusion about where his loyalties lay. 

Once, he had feared being trapped, had thought that he was a wild thing that Dean sought to tame, but now he knew he had never been truly free, even in the wilderness. He had always been caged, a beautiful creature waiting to be sold, confined and cramped by his family’s expectations.

The freedom he wanted, it came from Dean and their marriage together. Dean offered him what he had never had before and Castiel understood that now. 

They would forge a new family together, a new dynasty. 

They would win back the kingdom for their child and they would do so together, so that one day their son or daughter might be crowned the ruler of all of it.


	12. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Dean consummate their marriage, and Adam finds comfort from an unexpected source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with this. Sorry it's been so long between updates. It's been very hard for me to get inspired for this, especially in between moving house and starting a new job. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.
> 
> And anyone who knows me will know it's completely not unexpected where Adam finds comfort from.

Dean’s sleep had been heavy since the battle. Castiel knew that. Dean was healing, and if he was asleep, Castiel did not want to wake him. He hoped that Dean would not be asleep, that he would not have time to lose the courage of his convictions. It would be so easy to lose his nerve and he could not continue to resist his husband.

Their union had to be complete.

He needed to fall pregnant. Only with a Winchester heir could be ensure their future. If Dean died in battle, if his wounds became infected before he could continue his crusade, then Castiel stood a better chance of picking up his banner and advancing if he was carrying Dean’s child.

Castiel would not run back to the wilderness. He would not abandon Dean’s brother, Sam, abandon everything Dean had hoped for and wanted. He would continue on. 

If anything happened to Dean, there would be a child born of his blood and his name to continue with Castiel. 

Castiel’s footsteps quickened as he headed towards Dean’s room. He pushed the door open, relieved when he saw his husband sitting up in bed. Dean looked healthy, there was some color in his cheeks, and that helped to strengthen Castiel’s resolve. 

Dean was not alone however. Adam was seat at his bedside, a book open in his lap. His mouth was open too, paused in mid-sentence by Castiel’s interruption. As Castiel looked at him, Adam quickly closed his mouth and shut the book. 

Castiel could not help but feel a coldness between himself and Adam. He did not want it to be there, but it existed never the less. Castiel had taken Dean’s attention, and Adam was only a bastard son. If anything happened to Dean, then it would be Castiel who had control over Adam’s life. He could keep him in the position to which he’d become accustomed, or treat him as a lowly servant and Adam was obviously aware of that fact.

He regarded Castiel with a suspicion that was his right. 

Once Castiel had reaffirmed his relationship with Dean, once he was with child, he would seek Adam out and make it clear to the boy that he need have no fears about his future. Castiel would care for him just as Dean had always done.

It felt strange to regard Adam as a boy when they were of the same age, but Castiel was married, embroiled in political maneuvers that could shape the whole Kingdom, while Adam had none of those responsibilities.

“Adam, would you leave us?” he asked a little breathlessly.

Adam stood up quickly. The sharpness of his movements reminded Castiel of just how uncomfortable Adam seemed in his presence, but as Castiel had already accepted, he could not mend those bridges until he was secure. 

Adam left the room, shutting the door behind him, and it was not until he had done that that Dean looked quizzically up at Castiel.

“What is so important that you needed to speak to me alone?” he asked.

Castiel did not waste time on decorum. He crawled on to the bed, depositing himself in Dean’s lap.

“Are you well? Can you lay with me?”

Dean’s eyes widened.

“I...yes, there are ways, but I thought...do you really want this, Castiel?”

Castiel nodded.

He needed this - needed it to secure himself, to secure a line to the throne and ensure Dean’s plans were carried through - but he also wanted it. He had almost lost Dean on the battlefield and no reassurances were enough to calm him. He had to have Dean, had to hold him and know that Dean was alive, that they both were. 

He wanted their marriage consummated and he wanted the children consummation would bring. He wanted them for their own dear selves, the joy they would bring Dean and him, as much as for prosperity and the continuation of his line. 

If he and Dean had not been an arranged match, if they had come together naturally, and this now had been their wedding night, Castiel knew he would not have held back. He would have wanted a family with Dean.

“Yes,” he said, tipping his head down so he could kiss Dean. “I know I’m ready now. I know I want a child, Dean. I want your child and I want you. I’m ready.”

**

Dean was as careful and gentle as any man could be. His wounds prevented him from taking Castiel, from being forceful with him. Castiel had assumed Dean would take him from behind, would use him as he had been told husband’s used their spouses, but Dean did not. He did not even suggest or attempt it. 

He helped Castiel to open himself up with oil, showing Castiel just how to do it, proving to Castiel that it could be a pleasurable thing to do. Castiel was panting, his cock hard and jutting proud, by the time he begged for Dean’s cock inside him. 

Dean used the oil again, slicked his cock up and then helped Castiel to kneel over him, to sink back until he felt the head of Dean’s cock press against his stretched hole. 

He felt the flicker of pain as Dean breached him. It was uncomfortable at first, a fullness he was not expecting, but Dean spoke softly to him, willed him to relax and Castiel found that it became easier. He grew almost to like the sensation of Dean inside, stretching him wide and filling him up.

Dean let him take his time, let Castiel set the pace. It was not what Castiel had imagined. He was almost ashamed of himself, of the cant of his hips as he rose and fell, taking Dean’s cock inside him over and over again. 

His orgasm, when it came, took him by surprise. He cried out Dean’s name, cling to him. Dean pushed back the damp hair from Castiel’s forehead, kissed him and told him that was enough, but Castiel knew it wasn’t. He clenched tight on Dean’s cock, rocked his hips and kept to that rhythm until Dean followed him over the edge and came inside him. 

Only then did Castiel know that it was enough. Only when he could be certain. 

Gingerly, he rolled on to his side, drawing his legs close together.

“Do you think I’ll be pregnant?” he asked.

Dean looked tired now, exhausted after their activities and Castiel felt a stab of guilt. It had been important, something they both wanted but Dean was still healing. He needed rest, not the wantonness of his husband. 

Even so, Dean still smiled indulgently.

“I hope so,” he said. “Although it would be no trial to try again.”

Castiel found himself smiling back.

“Rest,” he said, offering his hand to Dean to pull him down into his embrace. “We can try again when you are well.”

**

 

**Elsewhere in Lord Robert’s Castiel:**

Adam did not refuse the glass that was poured for him by Castiel’s brothers. They seemed to be celebrating, or they might have been commiserating. Adam was not sure. Gabriel seemed as hearty as ever, opening bottles of mead and insisting everyone drink, but Michael seemed distant, his thoughts consumed by something else.

Adam knew he was in much the same mood. That was maybe why he found himself gravitating towards Michael and not Gabriel. 

They sat alone in the corner together, in a silence that offered at least company, and it was pleasant, at least until Michael roused himself to make conversation and Adam had to remind himself to keep a civil tongue in his head.

Michael had been a king. Castiel was Michael’s brother. Anything Adam said, it would be judged and remembered. 

“Why are you so melancholy? I thought Dean was recovering,” Michael asked. 

“He is,” Adam said quickly, wondering if Michael would be pleased or disappointed by the news. “It is not...I...Dean’s brush with death was unsettling. It reminded me that my situation is precarious.” 

Michael nodded.

“Yes, your station. I can imagine that must be unpleasant for you, always having to rely on the good graces of others.”

Adam said nothing. Michael was right, but it did not seem wise to agree. Neither Dean nor Sam had ever intentionally set out to make Adam feel different, they had always treated him well, but Adam had been keenly aware from his birth that he was not the same as them. Their father had never allowed him to forget it, or to forget the kindness he had bestowed in acknowledging Adam as his own. Adam had been schooled, raised with his own children, given so many advantages, but he was still not an equal. 

Adam sometimes wondered if it would not have been more of a kindness to leave him with his mother and let him be raised poor and unknowing, rather than live a half-life surrounded by the nobility but unable to belong to it. 

Still, here he sat, conversing with a man who had once been King. All stations and situations were subject to change and upheaval. 

“I have come to realize that Dean must succeed, or I have no future,” he admitted quietly. “I could have trained for something, maybe as a physician, or my father might have married me off to one of his favored knights, but now I have no prospects unless Dean wins.”

“A lot of us owe our future survival to your brother’s victory,” Michael said. 

“You would still be nobility in the wilderness,” Adam said. “I am not. If Dean dies, I may as well sell myself into slavery. There will be no good graces left.”

“There would be mine,” Michael said. 

His words were tender, unexpected. 

He reached out, covering Adam’s hand with his own, and squeezed gently. 

Adam looked up at him, startled and confused by this sudden display of fondness. 

Michael had been a king and Adam was first and always a bastard child, born out of wedlock. 

There should be no kindness in Michael’s voice, no soft expression and no gentle hand holding his own. 

“Gabriel’s mead is potent,” he said quietly, offering Michael an excuse, a reason to remove his hand and ignore the impropriety of what he had just done, but Michael did not take the offer. 

“You would not be abandoned, Adam,” Michael said. “I would stand by you.”

Adam stared at him, his cheeks flaming red. He understood the promise in Michael’s words and they scared him, but not enough to counter the intrigue that those words also brought with them.

It was flattering to have someone as noble as Michael interested in him.

Adam knew he should take his own mother as a warning, that he should demand more than one soft declaration spoken by a man in his cups, but he did not. 

He took the promise Michael gave him, took it for what he believed it was worth, and gave himself to Michael wholeheartedly. 

There was a war on, and he was a bastard son. There would be time for defining the legalities of their arrangement and of how Michael would honor his words. It was not pressing that Adam remain a virgin for anyone. 

He was not Castiel and his purity was never important.


	13. Unlucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story moves forward a few months and Castiel is pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a time-skip. I've moved the story forward by a few months.

Castiel stroked a hand over his rounded stomach, smiling proudly to himself as he admired his pregnant form in the mirror. 

Pregnancy suited him. He felt strong. His body had shifted and changed, but it was a change he embraced. 

Everything was progressing as it should. The baby within him was growing big and blithe and undeniably a Winchester. Dean had told him that both himself and Sam had been big babies. It would be a difficult birth, Castiel’s physicians warned him, especially given that this was Castiel’s first child, but Castiel was not yet concerned with that. All that concerned him was that the baby continued to grow healthy. 

This child would be Dean’s heir. It would be proof of the unity between his house and Castiel’s, proof that their marriage was the foundation of a dynasty. 

“Do you have a name yet?” Adam asked him, lounging in a chair a few steps away from Castiel.

Since the revelation that Castiel was carrying the future heir, there had always been someone with him - Adam or one of his brothers. It was a protective measure. Word would surely reach the capitol soon enough, if it had not already and Castiel was not naive enough to believe that the baby growing within him was without enemies. There would be any number who would want to end Dean’s line now, who would happily send an assassin to kill his young husband and his unborn child. 

Their baby was an innocent, but it would be born into a civil war. There would be no remorse from Dean’s enemies if Dean’s heir ever fell into their clutches. 

Castiel pressed his hand more firmly against his stomach, wishing he could do more to protect the child, but until it was born, the best he could do was carry it safely. 

“Yes, we have,” he said in answer to Adam’s question. “Samandriel. Sam after your brother, and driel for Gabriel. I think it’s a fitting name, uniting both our traditions.”

It paid homage to the brother that Dean loved so dearly, that he waged war for, and it gratified Gabriel. Of all his brothers, Gabriel had proved the most supportive and loving, and Castiel was pleased to honor him in this way. Once Gabriel found out, he would crow like a delighted cockerel from morning until night.

“It’s a nice name,” Adam said, but he did not sound convinced, speaking through gritted teeth.

Castiel turned to look him, ready to remind him that the name was one Dean and he had chosen together, but one look at Adam stilled his tongue. 

It was clearly not the name of the baby that was preoccupying Adam’s mind. 

He was not looking at Castiel, but passed him, staring at the wall in a way that Castiel could have mistaken for boredom, but since the news of his pregnancy he had spent many long days with Adam as his companion, his watch dog, and he knew that Adam was now deep in thought. 

“Do you love my brother?” Adam asked suddenly, turning his head and fixing Castiel with a hard, unwavering stare.

The question was not one Castiel had prepared himself to answer. His marriage to Dean was not about love. Castiel had always known he would marry for duty. His love would be reserved for his children, for his family. He had never allowed himself to speculate on who his husband would be because it had never mattered in the grand scheme of things. His husband could have been anyone, theirs would not be a great romance.

Only it had not been just anyone, it had been Dean, and even though their marriage had been an arrangement between two noble houses, Castiel could not bring himself to think of Dean as not mattering. 

“I do not know if I love your brother,” Castiel answered truthfully. “I do not know how to love anyone who isn’t family, but I know I would not want to live in a world without your brother in it. That I would not want another husband.”

Adam nodded. 

“What about your brothers? Do you think they are capable of love?”

Castiel tilted his head to one side, studying Adam just as intently as the youth studied him. This line of questioning did not make any sense that Castiel could see.

“They are as bound by the ties of family love as I am,” he said finally.

That answer caused Adam to smile. 

“Good,” he said. “Because I am not sure I have ever seen a man as completely in love as you are, Castiel.”

Castiel snorted, shaking his head, but he knew his cheeks were red. Maybe he did love Dean? He didn’t know how describe what he felt for his husband, nor did he know why it was of such a keen interest to Adam. He turned back to the mirror, to his pregnant image that filled him with such joy, and thought of how happy he was that it was Dean’s child he carried within him.

“Even if I do love your brother, it’s not a weakness,” he said quietly. “It’s a blessing.” 

He heard Adam groan behind him, a small noise which was quickly stifled, but it was enough to grab his attention. At first, he thought Adam was making fun of him, mocking him, but one look at Adam dispelled that notion. 

Adam’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead. He looked ill, horribly ill.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked, horrified. “Are you sick?”

Adam didn’t answer, only covered his mouth. He shook his head, but there was no denying how unwell he was. 

“I’ll fetch help,” Castiel said. “Did you eat or drink something? Adam, you must tell me.”

It must have been a poison, Castiel decided, looking at Adam’s face and the way he clutched his stomach now. That was how the assassination attempt had come, through poison. Maybe it had only been enough to induce a miscarriage, or maybe it had been enough to kill both Castiel and the baby, but it wasn’t Castiel who ate the tainted food, but Adam.

“No,” Adam gasped. “I’m fine….I’m…”

He got no further, leaping from his seat and heading to the window. He flung it wide and for a few seconds the only noise in the room was the horrible retching sound as Adam was violently ill. 

Castiel hesitated, torn between fetching a physician and waiting for Adam to tell him what was wrong. 

He did not believe that Adam would sit there calmly and simply accept poisoning. If Adam believed he was ill, he would not argue differently. Castiel was certain of that. Dean had told him that it had been Adam’s job to sit with the sick in their household and nurse them back to health. It had made him brisk, efficient when dealing with illness. It was why he had been Dean’s first choice to watch over Castiel through his pregnancy. Adam would not suffer for no reason.

Unless there was a good reason that Adam did not want to see a physician, and one that certainly had nothing to do with poisoning and assassination attempts. 

Castiel placed his hands carefully back on his stomach, remembering with a twinge of sympathy the beginning months of his pregnancy when nothing he ate or drank did him any good and all of it made him ill. 

Adam’s sickness now looked more to him like morning sickness than anything else.

It would explain Adam’s insistence that things were fine, his refusal to draw attention to what was happening to him until his body revolted against him. 

Adam was unmarried. A pregnancy would be a scandal. It would undermine Dean, who would be seen as unable to control even his own brother, and it would damage all chances Adam had of marriage in the future. Adam had been elevated by Dean’s conquest for the crown. He could have married any man of Dean’s choosing - a Lord, a Duke - someone who would keep him in regal splendor, but if news of this pregnancy was revealed, Adam would be forever tainted. No man wanted to marry a boy who had already spread his legs for another and born him a child. 

“How far along are you?” Castiel asked quietly.

He wanted to be angry with Adam. Castiel had been told time and time again to keep his legs shut until marriage, that his only worth lay in his purity and he had listened and saved himself for Dean. But he had not known he was saving himself for Dean. It could have been any man with deep pockets and a thirst for the crown who bedded him. He had come to love Dean, but that wouldn’t necessarily have been true of another husband. Even the thought of being with someone other than Dean made Castiel feel queasy. 

Adam had lived in much the same quandary as him, but he had not been dutiful. He had not waited for someone else to make his choices for him. Castiel could not help but admire that, even as he feared just whom had fathered Adam’s child and what the consequences of their affair might be. 

“I’m not too far along. A month at most,” Adam said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He spoke softly, as if he could not quite believe the words themselves, but Castiel was grateful that Adam did not try to lie, to bluff his way out of a truth that had become wholly apparent. 

Adam came away from the window, his steps slow, and sank back down into his chair. His whole frame radiated the misery he was in, his shoulders slumping, his lips trembling.

“I kept hoping it would pass. I thought at first I was ill and then I hoped that my body would reject it, the child. It’s still so early, anything could happen.”

Castiel nodded. The first few months of his pregnancy had been hellish. He had prayed every night that the baby would stay safe inside him, that he would be blessed and not lose the child. Adam was right, it was still far to early for them to say for certain that he would carry to term, but it would become harder and harder to ignore when the first month had passed. 

“Does the father know?”

Adam shook his head. “I won’t tell him until I’m sure. He said he would take care of me, but I doubt he planned for a child when we bedded.” 

Castiel chewed at his bottom lip. Adam saw himself as disposable, unwanted and maybe that had been true once, when he was just the bastard child of John Winchester, but now he was an eligible young man, a tie to the future king. His worth in the marriage market had risen considerably, but he Adam did not see that and so he could have given himself to anyone - a married man, a kitchen boy, simply anyone because he did not know his own worth.

“And who is the father?” Castiel asked, fearing the worst.

Adam turned to look at him. His face was deathly pale. 

“Michael,” he said.


End file.
